On Trial
by blackinkredhair
Summary: Ezra is suspected with attempted murder of a politician's wife. While the rest of the law men try to save his hide, Ezra stays oddly silent. He will open up to one of the men for help. But can help arrive soon enough? OW, OFC, OMC Set a year or two after the last episode. Completed! Let me know if you want more :) Hope you enjoyed it!
1. Chapter 1

"You do seem to be making a habit out of this, judge Travis," Ezra quipped as the metal clanked shut behind him.

"And do try to give an impression that you're not enjoying this, Mr Jackson."

The town healer was embarrassed more than anything else.

"I'm sorry, Ezra. I hope this gets cleared up soon," he said apologetically.

"I'm sure you do," the gambler gave a short reply.

Chris Larabee was standing at the entrance to the jail throwing final observant glances to the main street. He didn't speak, but he didn't try to hide his disapproval either. He followed the judge out of the prison and left the uncomfortable Nathan to keep first watch.

"Was that really necessary?" he asked the judge once they were outside. The evening was warm, but there was an uncomfortable humidity in the air which is why Chris suspected there weren't so many people about.

"No one in town really believes Ezra took that money. Not anymore." He found it easy to defend the gambler when he wasn't within earshot. Chris thought of him as an inseparable part of their odd bunch, but he found it hard not to get irritated by the Southerner in his presence.

"I agree," said Travis. "But this is for his own protection. He could get spooked, decide to run before he can prove his innocence. Probably confirming the opposite."

Chris nodded. The judge had undeniable logic. He also had a far better understanding of the members of the seven than Chris ever thought to give him credit for. He wondered if the judge made these conclusions based on his interaction with them or if Mary sent him regular reports. Both, probably.

Chris was glad to know that even judge Travis was warming towards Ezra who he was happy to put behind bars at their first meeting in Four Corners. It was about time. But the judge might not have factored something else in his estimate. Putting Ezra in jail over something he hadn't done could make him even more determined to escape, to prove his innocence, to execute some godawful plan to exonerate himself.

"This could backfire," he warned.

"Don't allow it to," the judge was matter of fact. Chris realised he didn't know what else the judge had on his mind. It worried him.

"So what's next?" the man in black asked.

"We wait for somebody to come forward."

"And if no one does?"

The judge's gaze got lost in the distance.

"Make sure that somebody does."


	2. Chapter 2

The question of money had arisen by accident.

A month or so back, a politician was apprehended in Four Corners. John Blackwell had been touring the region convincing people to remain a free territory. He was spending his own money in order to charm the wealthy ranchers into supporting him, but the money was running out faster than he was making it back.

Mr Blackwell now had two choices. One was surrendering to corruption and promising the ranchers everything they wanted to hear in return for wealthy sums. Until he broke one promise too many, that is and was disposed with the summer's compost. It was a path most free territory politicians succumbed to sooner or later. But Mr Blackwell believed he had the upper hand in that game. He preferred the idea of big scale ranchers eating out of his and than vice versa.

His pride and arrogance made only one path possible. In the year that had unfolded, his wife – due to several family tragedies – became a lucrative money making scheme. If she died, he would inherit her family's wealth. Blackwell hired a local gun to end his wife's life and the man in question kidnapped the woman as agreed. However, before executing the plan, he went into the saloon for some Dutch courage and by the time he came back to the cellar where he had left Mrs Blackwell, seven lawmen were waiting for him to fall into the trap.

The young man gave the game away eagerly and desperately. Unfortunately, the jury wasn't kind on him. In a desperate attempt at a pardon, he claimed that he had been hired only to guard the woman and that another man was paid to end her life.

It was a simple, although tragic case of greed over integrity.

Had it not involved a free territory politician, the Pinkertons wouldn't have been instructed to comb through every lead possible by the pro-state party. The pro-staters wanted any mud they could get on their competition.

It was just a bad twist of fate that Ezra received a $1000 lodgement transfer entitled 'dowry' into his bank account a week before the incident. It was an elegant amount that popped out like a sore thumb in between numerous uneven amounts he truthfully labelled 'poker winnings'.

Judge Travis wouldn't have jumped to such far-fetched conclusions himself, but the Pinkertons efficiency lay in their relentless determination. They were happy to disregard the money as pure chance only if they had proof that they could do so. If not they were going to put the suspect on trial and let innocence be established there. Actually, they were going to put a suspect on trial and make sure of the opposite.

When the suspicion was first roused, the peacekeepers were affronted on Ezra's behalf. The Pinkerton's insisted that Ezra was free to go as soon as he provided acceptable explanation for the money. However, in the moments when it benefited him the least Ezra found the urge to exhibit the qualities people so often accused him of lacking. So with his life on the line he was determined to keep a promise.

"The money has been given to me for safekeeping. I am bound by my given word not to divulge the identity of the proper owner of the sum."

"What?" JD often had problems with following Ezra's meandering sentences.

"He promised not to say whose money it is," Buck snapped. "You fool!"

The usually cheerful lawman could control his temper as much as he could control his libido. Meaning, hardly if at all.

 _"_ _We wait for somebody to come forward."_

 _"_ _And if no one does?"_

 _The judge's gaze got lost in the distance._

 _"_ _Make sure that somebody does."_

Chris observed the judge closely. Was the judge saying what Chris thought he was saying?

If they can't prove where the money came from Ezra will be charged with kidnapping and attempted murder? He cursed the hired gunmen inwardly. He couldn't do that one simple thing right and leave his fellow man out of it? It was obvious like the sky was blue that Ezra was just at the wrong place at the wrong time.

A look from the judge stopped Chris' from sharing his thoughts. Words of protest were in vain now. Chris tipped his hat to show he understood.

"Good evening," judge Travis said and walked in the direction of the hotel.

Vin was sitting in the chair in front of the jail cleaning his harmonica. He stopped when Chris turned to him and the two exchanged glances. Vin had overheard the conversation so the two didn't need to speak which was what they both preferred. They toyed with their own thoughts for a while. A torrent of curses and complaints broke their silence.

"WHAT has that fool done now?" Buck was moving towards the jail.

"Is it true he's locked up?" JD was following suit.

"Calm down both of you," Chris stopped the gangly man before he could open the door. _And don't go in there either_ , his tone of voice communicated. The younger man stood behind Buck in obedience. He didn't have Buck's boisterousness when it came to challenging their de facto leader.

"That sweet talking snake has something to say about every grain of sand under the sun, but when it's to save his own hide, he dries up faster than a desert. Explain this to me, Chris."

Buck couldn't understand why everyone else seemed to care more about Ezra's life than he did himself.

"There's no use getting worked up over it," Vin interjected. "You know he always goes and does the opposite of what you want him to."

"Maybe then we should all leave him to hang. Maybe then he'd show some interest in that slippery life of his."

"The judge is coming back with the prosecution in two weeks. We better have an answer until then," Chris said

The two men reluctantly protested their way back into the saloon.

"If he doesn't come up with an explanation by then, I'll give him a whooping he'll never forget," Buck offered in their direction before disappearing behind the saloon door.

Vin grinned at the burning energy Buck displayed for everything. But his smile was strained by worry.


	3. Chapter 3

Ezra waited for four days before he was left under Josiah's guard. He evaded prodding questions from Buck and JD easily. Either of the two just needed to be led to talk about themselves and he could fall asleep easily. Vin's tactic was to talk to himself just audible enough to be heard. He entertained different theories he thought led Ezra to the situation he was in, hoping for the gambler to correct him or agree with him if he stumbled upon the truth. Chris was the hardest because he didn't speak at all, but he bore his eyes into the con man every once in a while to show how profoundly annoyed he was.

In the moments when it benefited him the least Ezra found the urge to exhibit the qualities people so often accused him of lacking. So with his life on the line he was determined to honour a promise he had given some time ago. He was not to reveal where the money came from under any circumstances.

Well, that was only part of the truth. Ezra became aware of it when it the situation proved to be more serious than he wanted to believe. The truth was that Ezra didn't see the point in sharing the story he promised to keep secret if he only had his own flimsy word to support it. He trusted the fellow six men indefinitely, but he was still worried about the feeling being vice versa. He couldn't find the courage to expose his truth only to be disbelieved regardless. There was only one man he could talk himself to confide in. If the secret was to remain secret, who better than a preacher to keep it?

Even after he'd decided on a plan, and Josiah's watch was the winning hand he was waiting for, the cautious gambler beat about the bush.

"A sinful game of chance, Mr Sanchez?" he called out to the man at the sheriff's desk.

"Not tonight, Ezra," the preacher was aloof. Perhaps that was why he volunteered for jail duty Ezra reasoned. It nearly threw him off but time was precious. He put away his cards and leaned on the prison bars.

"In that case..." he hesitated. "I'll have to ask you for a favour forthright. Hopefully you'll accept to have me indebted to you."

Josiah sat up instantly and cursed himself for not accepting the game of cards. It hadn't occurred to him that it was difficult for Ezra to broach the subject. He didn't speak hoping that giving the man some space would leave room for him to express himself. He tried to lure the gambler to talk.

"I might be open to that," he said.

"It is related to my false charges."

Josiah sighed with relief. Finally!

"How can I help you, brother?"

"There might be a receipt."

The preacher turned to him with flaming eyes. Buck was right. The little weasel has been sitting on a receipt for four days while the rest of the men were killing themselves trying to find an alibi to acquit him. Ezra looked up at him like a guilty child. But there was something else in his eyes.

"Why didn't you say so sooner?" Josiah asked tentatively. His anger was connected to the inability to help him. Now that he could, he found some sympathy for him, too. Besides, Ezra had instincts of a hunted animal. The smallest prod in the wrong place and he would roll up like a porcupine.

"Various reasons. I promised to keep the origins of that particular sum private."

He looked at Josiah pointedly. Ezra knew that he didn't have to ask Josiah to keep a secret in so many words, so he made sure his look was unmistaken. Josiah nodded.

"But mainly it is because I am quite sure that the documentation isn't with me. Even so..." he continued with so many embellishments that Josiah was having a hard time not wanting to slap the point out of the unsuspecting law man.

"Would you mind searching my private quarters for the documents after you are relieved in the morning?"

"It's just been sitting in your room this whole time?" the preacher's patience was running on empty.

"I can't be sure that it's there. I was placed into custody before I could search myself and the documents are... Of a sensitive quality."

Josiah wasn't about to pry so he cut to the chase:

"What am I looking for?"

"A bounty receipt."

"Bounty?" it was the very last thing he expected to come out of Ezra's mouth. That man really did always have a wild card up his sleeve.

"It will all become apparent once you find the receipt," the gambler wasn't going to elaborate further.

Josiah moved back towards the sheriff's desk.

"Mr Sanchez?"

"Yes, Ezra?" he was about to sit down.

"If you can't find the receipt among my possessions or in my desk," Ezra pulled out a tiny silver object from his vest pocket. "You have my permission to open the safe that I keep in my wardrobe."

Josiah moved back towards the cell a little touched. Was this man letting him through the last lines of defence? Ezra hesitated before turning over the key.

"I would appreciate if you kept the contents of the safe to yourself," the gambler pleaded.

"Of course."

"I hope you won't mind, but I need your word as a man of God."

 _So that's why he waited so long_ , Josiah thought. _He needed to make sure that his secret was triply guarded by his friend, a fellow lawman and a man of God_. He made a mental note to teach Ezra about trust in the future.

The gambler threw himself on the cot limply.

"If the money's legal, there's nothing to worry about, son."

Ezra gave the man a half-smile and didn't speak for the rest of the evening.

Josiah kept his promise and went straight to Ezra's room above the saloon when JD arrived for morning duty. He came back half an hour later and shook his head at Ezra. He couldn't find the receipt. The gambler's eyes were alive with recalculation but his body language resigned itself to defeat.

Josiah had no intention of breaking the promise he had given to the young man, but he did decide to act on the last straw of hope. In the wardrobe safe that Ezra was so reluctant to have opened, alongside some money, were personal items and letters of someone Josiah knew how to contact. He decided on a gamble of his own. Could this person offer any answers? Maybe even an alibi?

He decided it was worth the risk and he walked to Mary Travis's office playing with the silver key. As the bell announced him on the entrance, he was in no doubt whether to send a telegram anymore.

EZRA IN GRAVE TROUBLE STOP BOUNTY RECEIPT NEEDED STOP TESTIMONY ESSENTIAL STOP JOSIAH

It cost him more than two weeks' wages and he vowed to make the sulky gambler repay him once he got off free. He had to pay extra to receive confirmation of receipt. If the addressee wasn't reached the peacekeepers would still have time to act instead of just waiting idly.

But luck had smiled on them for the first time in days and he received a ray of hope within three hours.

ARRIVING AT ONCE STOP G


	4. Chapter 4

Now that the town of Four Corners had an established protection that neighbouring boroughs could only wish for, the stage coach became a coveted market place where passersby and visitors were enticed with everything from snacks and reading material for the road, to bed, board and limited tourist attractions. The baker would just coincidentally be passing by with his best batch, the seamstresses would be on urgent business of delivering cloth and the waiter from the restaurant would happen to have a menu on hand in case the travellers were hungry. Recently the hotel had officially taken to sending out a representative to lure the unsuspecting travellers into their soft, fragrant sheets.

But when Montgomery Monterrey got off the stagecoach that afternoon, Four Corners resembled a ghost town. Most shop windows were closed and those that weren't were locked and empty. There wasn't a loiterer in sight. The only person who came up to the driver was young Taylor and only because he was on official duty. He was chatting lazily to the driver while the man riding shotgun was shuffling the bags.

There air was humid and the sun strong, but the out-of-towner who was experiencing the 'real' West for the first time looked around with a wide smile and an enthusiastic spring in his gait. He stretched like he was trying on a new garment to see if it fit. So far, so pleased. After a perfunctory glance, he unashamedly returned his focus to the coach and offered his hand in support. A white opera gloved hand leaned onto his and he supported a dignified veiled figure down the steps as their bags were unloaded around them with thuds.

The postman looked at them with questioning eyes. Montgomery sported a three pin suit unnaturally clean after three days on the road and his wife wore a magnificent dark blue gown more suited for the evening at the opera than the small township they had chosen to disembark at. Montgomery caught his eye.

"I say young man," he started cordially although he wasn't that much older than his addressee. "How would you like to welcome two newcomers and get rewarded for the trouble?"

The veiled woman turned her head to inspect the street up and down while Montgomery was convincing the young postman to take their excessive luggage to the hotel. Young Taylor was refusing as best he could until a wad of money appeared from Montgomery's vest pocket.

"You would be aiding us to no end," he cooed. "We are on urgent business or I wouldn't dream..." he let his words trail off.

The moment his fingers touched the $5 note, the postman became eagerly available.

"You want me to take a room out for you, too?" he asked hoping to get his hands on a few more.

"Well, how kind!" Montgomery exclaimed. "Do make reservations for us in the couple's suite and inform them that Mr and Mrs Monterrey will be arriving shortly."

He pretended to hesitate then added: "And keep the change."

The young boy's grin almost touched his ears and he soon moved towards the hotel in a quick although unsteady pace under the weight of several travel bags.

"I hope we're not too late," Mrs Monterrey spoke in a strained tone.

"This way," she informed her husband as she led him towards the saloon.

It was apparent now where the residents of Four Corners were hiding. The saloon was overcrowded with people and overflowing with chatter. Judge Travis was pounding his gavel.

"Order in the court," he demanded. "I want order or we will proceed in private."

Eager to participate in the news as it unfolded, the people settled down while the parties at the front continued.

"Your honour, after 15 days the accused has no witness and no proof of the legitimacy of the money in his account. The money was transferred to him on the same week that the murder was supposed to take place. Although he was sussed out as a suspect, he refuses to even imply where that money might have come from..."

The short squelchy man was interrupted by his polar opposite. Josiah Sanchez stood up towering over the man whose only line of defence was now lifting his chest and puffing loudly.

"Your honour, all accusations and evidence to support it are merely circumstantial," he spoke confidently in defence of the gambler. "Mr Standish cannot prove that the money is rightfully his so he chooses to remain silent in order not to waste the court's time. Apart from a transaction that he is legally allowed to make, there is no reason to suspect any wrongdoing."

During the interaction between the two parties, Montgomery found a seat in the far back for his wife as she had requested. Barely anyone gave her a second glance even though her appearance warranted it. All eyes were fixed at the proceedings. Even the three men guarding the improvised courtroom didn't find a reason to shift their attention from a friend and colleague whose life was in jeopardy.

Montgomery walked towards the action.

"He should be in contempt of court for not elaborating and he is a legitimate suspect because the money was entered under the title 'dowry' and we know the hiring party initiated the murder plot to inherit his wife's wealth," the prosecutor was demanding understanding from the judge.

At the same time, Montgomery placed his hand on Josiah's shoulder and whispered in his ear. The tall preacher rose from his seat and ardently shook his hand with a short backward glance. He couldn't stop relief from washing over his face.

"Your honour, if you'll allow, a witness for the defence has come forward," he announced with a touch of pride in his voice.

"Proceed," the judge said impatiently.

Ezra Standish who was sitting next to his improvised defence looked up at the stranger who appeared out of thin air. He had never seen him before in his life.

Chris, Buck and Nathan who were guarding the courtroom looked at one another then peeled their eyes at the front.

"I have in my possession documentation of origin and the transferral documents for the $1000 in question," the newcomer spoke confidently.

"And why didn't you come up with those sooner," the prosecutor was dissatisfied.

"I have endeavoured to present them as soon as I knew they were needed," he said in the manner usually attributed to the town's con man.

"Would you be willing to testify to how those documents came to your possession?" the judge proceeded.

"I would, your honour. Privately." he emphasised the last word.

"You have just made a very public display. What's the difference?" the judge was losing patience. He wanted this over and done with.

"Your honour, I represent a third party and they wish to keep the origin of the money kept secret."

The prosecutor chuckled incredulously then shook his head looking for approval from the judge. It was obvious the prosecutor thought the event ridiculous. No one noticed how Ezra's body language had tensed up at the words _third party_.

"And why is the party unable to testify?"

"Privacy. But I am legally allowed to speak in their place."

Now each of the peacekeepers eyed the veiled figure more closely. Could that man be talking about the mystery woman? And if so, who was she?

"That's preposterous," the prosecutor protested, but a look from the judge silenced him on the spot.

Oren Travis was about to speak, but Montgomery interrupted him.

"I am willing to give an official statement to the court verify the truthfulness of my words," he repeated himself as if he was looking for applause from the audience.

The judge didn't appreciate being interrupted and he didn't appreciate drama.

"In that case, the court is adjourned for an hour until the validity of the document and the statement can be verified," he hurried to end this. "Dismissed."

Montgomery shared his quarter arrangements with Josiah and strode to rush his wife back to the hotel before the townsfolk got too nosy.

Ezra was escorted back to prison with less formality now that his release was coloured with a ray of hope.


	5. Chapter 5

Mr Monterrey walked into the jail with a smile none of the people present deemed warranted. He made a point of shaking everyone's hand and took his hat of in front of Mary Travis who was acting as a scribe for the occasion.

"Thank you for joining us, Mr Monterrey," the judge spoke without hesitation. "If you don't mind, I'd like to have the entire process completed by dinner," the judge was warning everyone present.

"We have Mrs Mary Travis acting as scribe, Mr John Douglas representing the prosecution, Mr Josiah Sanchez for defence, Mr Standish, the accused, Mr Dunne for the law and myself, Oren Travis as the presiding judge." Mary's writing was fast but precise.

"I have had a moment to examine the documents you've submitted in Mr Standish's defence and believe that they could go to show that Mr Standish's sum of money was gained independently of the crime he is being prosecuted for."

Prosecutor Douglas rolled his eyes impatiently, but returned an apologetic look when the judge arched a menacing eyebrow.

"We have convened here to gather context for this documentation. Are you willing to provide it, Mr Monterrey?"

"I am, your honour." Montgomery became as official as the rest of the people present.

"Do you swear to relay the information truthfully and to the best of your knowledge?"

"I do."

"And you are aware that falsifying evidence whether in written or oral form is a crime punishable by prison sentence and in severe cases death?"

"I am, your honour."

"Mr Monterrey, to the best of your knowledge and supported by documentation you provided, what is the origin of the $1000 sum in question?"

"Your honour, I relay the information that has been given to me: The $1000 was a prize on Jonas Johnson's head. The man was wanted dead or alive and he was brought to justice at the start of this year."

"And how did it come to Mr Standish's possession?"

"Mr Standish assisted the... Apprehension. The money was placed in the local bank to avoid being mugged on the long ride back to Four Corners. I assume Mr Standish transferred the money on his own accord."

"And why would a party you represent put so much money in the accused's bank account? And why call it dowry? It doesn't add up," the prosecutor was unimpressed.

"It is my understanding that the title of the lodgement was used as flirtation and possible hint of marriage."

"Ezra, is this true?" the judge demanded.

"Everything that the gentleman said so far shows he is adequately informed."

Ezra was on guard. Everything about Mr Monterrey was an unanswered riddle.

"I should hold you in custody for contempt of court," the judge raised his voice. "Why didn't you say anything sooner?"

"I had no hope of proof sooner," the gambler fixed his eyes on the man with exonerating testimony.

"The court will accept given testimony as truthful. Thank you, Mary," the judge checked to see that she had written everything down.

"Gentlemen, sign at the bottom; followed by defence and prosecution."

"Your honour..." the prosecutor had nothing but the judge's name to protest with.

"I want to put this farce as far behind us as possible. If I am interrupted, Mr Douglas, I might be forced to examine your case building techniques."

The man seemed to grow shorter under the judge's flaming glare. Dinnertime was approaching and the judge had had a light lunch.

"If I may enquire before I sign," the Southerner drawled pointedly. "On whose behalf are you assisting me with my legal issues?"

"My wife's," Montgomery said with a courteous bow.

Ezra flinched invisibly and took a short breath before he signed his last name. He passed the quill to his saviour without looking at him.

As the procession of men signed after him, he bowed in mockery: "I apologise that I couldn't assist your investigation better," he said to Mr Douglas. The man, seemingly resigned to another unsolved case, didn't notice him. Ezra had almost reached the sunshine when the judge changed his mind.

"Mr Standish," a voice called and the gambler turned. "In order to make this official, we need to hold final court proceedings." The judge motioned towards the cells with his arms. Ezra groaned inwardly.

"Is this really necessary?"

The judge spoke after he had locked the door over the con man's face.

"Don't ever waste my time again," came a sincere piece of advice. But it sounded more like a threat.


	6. Chapter 6

"Order in the court," the judge demanded.

Ezra had tried to examine the wife Montgomery Monterrey was representing but she fit no mould that he'd formerly known. The judge announced the legal reasons for Ezra's acquittal and the people present broke into applause and scattered whistles.

Ezra was touched. People usually much preferred a nice hanging than an innocent verdict. It made him think that he should have tried to defend himself on the basis of his word alone. He felt that maybe he would have been believed. A mixture of happiness and overwhelming responsibility came over him. How lucky he was to live in a town where he was so well accepted. He could have analysed his feelings for hours, but Josiah heavy slap on the back brought him back to the events enfolding around him.

"Congratulations, son! Good to have you back," the older and more serious man smiled sincerely at him as he shook his hand. He passed Ezra his guns. The gambler took them in a haze that lifted the moment he saw Chris Larabee approaching fast and furious. Ezra made a face, atypical for the calculated poker player, and braced himself. Larabee was livid. He grabbed the smaller man by his lapels firmly before anyone could react.

"Jonas Johnson? You killed Jonas Johnson," the blonde breathed in his face.

"Now, Mr Larabee..." the con man began evasively.

Josiah was surprised by this display of anger and wanted his fellow man spared after an exhausting fortnight.

"Chris, leave the boy alone," he stated with a mixture of plea and threat as he pulled Larabee's shoulder.

"Why, Ezra?" he was relentless.

"If you'd be so kind to unhand me, I might be able to contribute a solution."

Chris pushed him away and Ezra took it as a good sign. He adjusted his purple coat and looked around the place that was almost completely empty. Even the judge and the prosecutor were walking out the door unperturbed by the dealings of the lawmen.

"Start talking card man or count your lucky starts," Chris snarled.

"In my defence, Mr Larabee, I was merely an assisting party in that assassination."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"What's going on here?" Vin had just come in, tipped off by the judge. Ezra was grateful for the distraction.

"Jonah Johnson," he spat out not moving his eyes of the town gambler. "One of the men who set my house on fire. And this buffoon took it upon himself to kill him!"

"Wrong, Mr Larabee, on two counts." Ezra was on top of his game now.

"I assisted in executing his delivery to justice and I assisted in the safekeeping of money that such a delivery produced." He paused for effect.

"But I did not kill him."

"So if you didn't kill him, who did?" Chris was getting impatient. Josiah and Vin were ready to pounce each on one of the men if words became insufficient.

"Was it Buck?"

Chris was famously ready for a fight with anyone and everyone when his deceased wife was concerned whether it was a mention of her name in a context that he didn't agree with, digging around their life together or the night of the incident. Or if a person involved with her murder was eliminated by anyone other than himself.

"I'd like to think that Mr Wilmington would have come to my aid much sooner than the last day of my trial."

"Stop playing games, Ezra! We're not in a saloon!" Chris shouted.

Ezra looked around, but the irony was lost on Chris. Vin and Josiah lowered their heads to hide childish smiles.

"I'm only going to ask one more time."

"I gave my word never to divulge that information," Ezra admitted. Chris had his gun out before Ezra could continue. He raised his arms and carried on calmly.

"But... I can lead you in the direction of someone who might be free to share the information with you."

"So?"

Ezra was impatient now. He rolled his eyes inwardly.

"Even you can come to that conclusion yourself, Mr Larabee."

He looked at the confused faces around him in disbelief.

"Mr and Mrs Monterrey?"

"Who are they anyway," Vin was first to speak.

"I'm afraid I can't say I made their acquaintance prior to today," he said then continued under his breath. "But I have my suspicions."

Chris was biting back anger.

"I guess we better," he looked for the words. "Make their acquaintance."

And the four unlikely lawmen moved towards the door.


	7. Chapter 7

"After you," Ezra offered as he opened the door.

Chris, Vin and Josiah marched through, but the town con man decided to stay put. Instead he moved to the back of the saloon, uncorked one of the bottles and poured himself a glass of whiskey. Inez was rearranging the saloon for its original purpose and she was nearly ready to open the door for the returning customers.

Ezra had stayed behind because he wasn't ready to undoubtedly confirm the truth that logic had clearly implied. Hardly in the mood to be around people either, he tipped his imaginary hat to the Mexican manager and retired to his room.

Chris focused on Montgomery the moment he pushed the hotel door open. It wasn't difficult since the prancing man was entertaining Buck, JD and the hotel manager with lively conversation at the bar.

"Where's your wife?" the blonde man spat to the chase.

"She's resting upstairs," Montgomery was caught off guard by the tone.

When Josiah approached Montgomery from behind and Vin closed the door behind him cautiously, Buck and JD touched their guns and looked at Vin for direction. Vin shook his head to show there was no immediate danger although Chris was already halfway up the stairs.

"Gentlemen," Mr Monterrey said in a reconciliatory tone, but only Josiah paid attention to him. The big foreboding man touched his shoulder and led him back to the bar. He ordered two shots of whiskey while they waited.

Buck and JD went after Vin and aligned themselves in back up to their group leader. Chris was already opening the door to the third out of four double bedrooms located on the first floor, the first two being empty. There was a short yelp this time.

"You really should learn to knock, Chris Larabee. I could have been in my night gown for all you knew."

At first Chris was taken aback, then baffled, then speechless. Then angry all over again.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Providing alibi. Which you must know or you wouldn't be knocking down doors of private quarters."

Tense as a rifle, Chris didn't move a muscle apart from his right thumb which was toying with his gun hammer.

"Is that what confused you? You should have knocked, not knocked down."

The three men dotted down the hall held their breaths. Goading Chris while he was angry was the surest form of suicide.

"You insensitive serpent."

"Well, what do you expect? You raised me. That is, you should have."

Buck finally put the soft voice and the words coming from the room together. He brushed past Vin with a huge grin.

"Gemma? Gemma!" he ran up to the elegant lady in the middle of the suite when he recognised her, picked her up in a strong embrace and twirled her around a few times.

"Well what do you know! Welcome back!" he finished with a huge kiss on each cheek.

Vin and JD got curious now and moved closer to the door, but Christ shut it in their face before they could peek inside.

"Relieved, men. Family affairs," was the last thing they heard.

The tracker and the Easterner looked at each other then down towards the man at the bar. He held up a glass to them.

"If my wife is in no immediate danger, perhaps you'd like a drink."

Vin and JD shrugged their shoulders, holstered their weapons and joined the stranger around whom questions arose by the second.

"Would you care to sit down?" Gemma offered to those in her room.

"Would you care to explain yourself?" Chris imitated her.

"Would you care to explain how?" she wouldn't relent.

"What right did you have to take out my wife's killer? And take Ezra with you. Just to spite me?"

"What bothers you more, that I took Ezra or that I took out Johnson?"

"You had no right!" he shouted.

"You have no right, Chris Larabee. You have no right to claim sole possession of grief that my sister left behind."

"She was my wife!"

"My sister," Gemma was defiant.

Before Christ spoke, Buck intervened.

"Alright, alright," he said as he stepped between them.

"What are you doing back here anyway? Dressed like that. With that guy?"

"Are you referring to my husband?" Gemma delivered to two faces in shock.

"Of all the stupid things, Gemma Connolly..." he was interrupted.

"Monterrey. Gemma Monterrey."

"I'm gonna kill 'im... I'm gonna kill you both," Chris had had too much.

"Easy now, cowboy," Buck moved towards him.

He wasn't thrilled with Gemma's news either, but he knew how hot-headed Christ could get. Gemma was no better. He made sure to have a firm hold on the shorter man and slowly turned him. Gemma wasn't ready to let it go yet.

"I appreciate very much your best wishes and support. There's nothing like family, is there?" her words were steeped in sarcasm.

"Let's take some time to cool off, shall we? Process all this new information. We could meet again, say dinner. Maybe meet Mr Monterrey officially," he put in an extra effort to lead the stunned Chris to the door. Gemma followed them with any icy smile.

"A family reunion. How quaint!" she finished it off with the slam of the door.

Since he couldn't continue the argument with the shut door, Chris turned to Montgomery Monterrey.

"You're a dead man," he pointed his finger at the man who feigned confusion.

Before he could think of pointing anything else, Buck already had him on the street and halfway to the saloon.


	8. Chapter 8

Buck motioned to Inez for a whiskey bottle. He smiled at her kindly when she delivered it with two glasses, but he didn't flirt with her and she understood something serious was going on. She left the items in front of Buck, but didn't inquire further. Buck took the whiskey and walked to the most secluded corner of the saloon to join Chris.

For about an hour none of the men spoke. They just administered the sharp whiskey on wounds that bruised their souls. Buck knew that guilt was eating Chris up and he wasn't going to let it finish him. Chris felt so guilty about his perceived failure with Gemma Connonlly that it was not advisable to even mention her name in front of him.

No stranger to any of the seven, Gemma Connolly had been even more persistent, and encountered more resistance, than JD Dunne in working with the unlikely lawmen in protecting the town all of them learned to call their home. Had judge Travis not enlisted her assistance in accompanying a pair of female prisoners who were to be brought for trial in Eagle Bend, she would have to have settled as a town cook. But Chris couldn't resist her involvement after that although he never tried to accept it.

Gemma grew up under Chris' roof under the watching and doting eye of his late wife. He tried his best to be a good role model and teach his sister-in-law about how to live a decent life.

But that had all ended when his wife's life did. He became increasingly hard to handle. Between bouts of extreme drunkenness he would become over-protective and over-suspicious. Gemma ran away from home six months following her sister's death. Chris believed he had driven her to that, he believed, and it never occurred to him until that moment that she was right when she said he was selfish. He never thought about how the death of her sister and her nephew might have affected her. He had always selfishly claimed the right to be devastated and angry, both from his father-in-law and Gemma. Even from Buck.

Chris looked to the man drinking next to him. Still with him, still behind him after all the violent tantrums Chris had thrown over the years, after so many efforts to alienate him.

"I drove her to this," he shared with Buck in self-pity.

"You didn't do anything Chris. She's always been independent," Buck offered honestly.

Buck had known Gemma since she was a scrawny ten-year-old. She had had the spitir of a wild mare even then. He knew Chris was blaming himself that she became a drifter in the West like the two of them. Buck believed that the circumstance had had an influence, but that Gemma was always destined for a life different to what Chris and Sarah had coveted for her.

If he thought about it, Buck couldn't have been more proud of Gemma. He loved the fact that she was in charge of her own life and unapologetically so. She worked in more jobs and more towns than he could confidently name and apart from an unfortunate spell with the leader of the Murray gang, she always held her own. She was certainly not the wilting flower that Chris had imagined her to be. After Sarah's death, he tried to fit Gemma into the mould of an ideal woman that his wife had left behind which closed his eyes to the reality of who Gemma actually was.

When she insisted on joining the group of seven hired men on their way to the Seminole village, Chris forbade it. He tried to do the same when judge Travis appointed her as an associate. But he often lost when it came to fighting Gemma. She had worked with the seven for nearly four years when she disappeared from the town from one day to another leaving more morose hearts than she gave herself credit for.

"And who the hell is that guy?" Chris' face contorted.

"Her husband, apparently."

Chris scoffed: "Husband."

"He seems like a nice guy."

Chris responded with a look that said it was dangerous to defend the man further.

"I'm sure we'll learn soon enough," Chris admitted.

"But not tonight?" Buck asked gingerly.

Chris offered his glass and Buck poured more amber liquid in it.

"Not tonight, cowboy," Chris said.

It was hard to imagine that the saloon was doubling as a courtroom only a few hours earlier because by 10pm it became such a loud and cheerfully disrespectable establishment. People drank, ate and gambled with no second thought on the fact that a man's life had hung by a thread in that very place.

Chris noticed Vin and Nathan eating their supper so he assumed that they were taking on the evening patrol. JD was about to sit next to the two men bunked up in the corner when Buck sent him away with just one shake of the head. There was no sign of Ezra even though it was his first night of freedom in weeks. Buck made a mental note to talk to the gambler. If he was ashamed of what had happened, he needed to be reassured that he was welcome back and that he would always be one of the seven.

Josiah came into the saloon as Vin and Nathan were paying. He nodded perfunctorily in their direction, but scanned the room for somebody else. His eyes fell on Chris. The town preacher walked up to the peacemakers in the deep corner slowly, showing the full range and weight of his body. He respected their de facto leader, but he wasn't in the mood for too much criticism.

"Brothers?" he asked before he sat.

Buck kicked out a chair for him. Another glass appeared on the table although none of the men could testify to seeing Inez put it down in court. Chris poured a drink for Josiah and waited. The preacher didn't touch it, preferring to drink once he was sure there was no bad blood between them.

"Is there anything I can illuminate for you, brother Larabee?"

Chris pierced him with narrow eyes.

"Where the hell did she come from?" he cut to the point.

"I telegraphed Mrs Monterrey five days ago."

"Connolly. Miss Connolly."

Josiah didn't comment.

"So you knew about her and Ezra's little escapade and you never thought to tell me? Did they tell you in confession? Because last I looked, you weren't a real preacher."

"Chris," Buck warned. He didn't like unwarranted digs at people.

Josiah didn't feel insulted, but he wasn't going to allow Chris' tone of voice for much longer.

"I didn't know how... Gemma," he used a neutral name now. "Fit into the picture. All I knew is that her name came up among the papers that brother Ezra asked me to check. I decided to telegraph just in case, considering the seriousness of the situation."

Chris was building a jigsaw in his mind.

"Five days? That's a tight schedule to travel the distance they had. How long did it take you to reach her?"

"There, brother, I must apologise," he lowered his head earnestly. "I've been in touch with sister Gemma since her stealthy departure."

"You knew where she was all along?" Buck was hurt.

"You knew she was getting married?" Chris flared again.

"She had mentioned it, yes."

"And you never thought to inform us? Buck at least?"

"She shared the information with me only after the fact. And sister Gemma had asked me to keep our correspondence private."

"You had no right to do that, preacher. She's my responsibility."

"Not anymore," Buck referred to Mr Monterrey, but Chris didn't see the humour in it.

Josiah reached for the glass.

"I'm deeply sorry for any wrong steps I've taken," he said raising it. The preacher made sure Chris' eyes relaxed into acceptance of his apology before all three drank.

"I will disturb you no longer," he said and left the saloon.

"It's not his fault Chris," Buck was attempting some mediation. "It's not anybody's fault."

"It's my fault," Chris believed.

"Chris," Buck started in that serious, heartfelt tone of voice which meant he was going to give you the truth you didn't want to hear.

"If you tried to stop that girl from making her own mistakes, you'd just make her itching to do more. You know she's stubborn like that. Nobody told that girl what to do sicne I'v eknown her. We both know she's been through a few bad choices. We've got scars to show for most of them," he chuckled lightly with memory. "But she's always come out stronger and wiser. And what's wonderful about that girl, she's never blamed anyone. Including herself," he paused.

"That's why she can prance into a town that barely accepted her like she's returning queen with a smile on her face the size of Texas and a heart was warm as an afternoon in the desert. She'll have this whole town eating out of her hand by Saturday."

Chris looked annoyed, but just like Buck had calculated, too drunk not to sit through his speech.

"But I reckon there's only one person's blessing she's looking for. And it's been a long time coming."

"You just said it, she's never needed my blessing for anything. She didn't ask for my blessing when she rode with the Rangers following you around or when she ran around town with Standish like she was his second horse."

"Now you hold on," Buck had played his cards perfectly. Sober Chris would have shot him long ago. That's why he wasn't going to ease on him now. "You and I both know that that girl will forever be like the first flower of spring in our minds. But don't think I'll elt you drag her through mud just to make yourself suffer."

Chris was slipping in melancholia under the weight of whiskey.

"She's the only thing I've got," he slurred.

"Maybe you should tell her that," Buck mused then smiled.

"Tomorrow," he said as he poured another shot into the blonde man's glass.


	9. Chapter 9

"Hey, Gemma!" Buck shouted from across the road the moment he spotted the young woman standing in front of the hotel pulling on her long laced gloves. He got to her before she finished and started tickling her mercilessly. She shouted and screeched and laughed loudly trying to slap him with one of the gloves at the same time. It felt good to be around each other again.

"I have someone here who wants to talk to you," Buck regained seriousness first. He motioned to Chris who had followed the gangly man slowly.

Gemma and he looked at each other's eyes. Chris tried to find the words, any words, but couldn't bring himself up to say he was sorry, that he missed her, that he loved her so. The most he could do was stretch out his right arm and hold up a reconciliatory hand.

Gemma took it and there was an unspoken understanding between them. The bonds between them reignited like wildfire. Gemma took a step towards him unconsciously and he grabbed her in his arms firmly. Buck was so overjoyed he nearly joined in. Gemma understood and she held out her hand to him. He squeezed it for a moment then released it only because he needed both his hands to wipe away a few happy tears forming in his eyes.

Chris was still hiding his face in Gemma's neck while he wrapped her around his chest.

"I'm sorry," she was the first to come out with it.

"Nothing to apologise for," was as far as Chris could get.

The words, although comforting, served as a wakeup call. They stepped away from each other now.

"We should have dinner before we leave," she suggested.

"When are you off?" Buck asked.

"We're taking the morning coach. So, six o'clock tonight? I want the two of you to meet Monty."

They both nodded. Before they could say anything else, they were interrupted by a loud bang of the saloon door.

"Gemma!" Montgomery Monterrey was shouting down the street. "Gemma, darling, cherub!"

She tensed up enough for the two men who knew her put their hands close to their weapons.

"Come, let's inspect our property!" he boasted.

"Come again," Gemma's voice was flat.

"Unpack your bags. I've just bought us a hotel." he exclaimed as he entered.

Gemma smiled brightly at the two men in front of her. She and Ezra shared the ability to smile with charm in the face of disaster.

"Excuse me," she informed the two cowboys who tipped their hats to hide smirks on their faces.

As Gemma turned on her heel, she shouted at the top of her lungs: "Monty!" And followed him inside.

The peacekeepers were grateful not to be in Monty's shoes.

THE END


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